


The King's Guard

by TheSopherfly



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Courtship, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Magic, Parties, Sorcerers, WinterIron Reverse Bang, haunted forest, suitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 13:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20875130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSopherfly/pseuds/TheSopherfly
Summary: After the death of King Howard Stark, Anthony steps up to the throne as the rightful heir of the Western Kingdom. Pressured by his advisors, he seeks stability for his kingdom in the form of a suitable prince to wed. Too bad his feelings for the newest member of his Royal Guard keep getting in the way.~James Buchanan Barnes, a knight and new member of the Royal Guard, is sworn to protect his king no matter what. When a coup threatens Anthony's life, Bucky keeps his king safe. If only he could keep his affection from distracting him from his duty.





	1. The King

**Author's Note:**

> A collaboration for the 2019 Winteriron Reverse Bang. Big thanks to [Takkun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takeshi) for the wonderful art, which you can see in Chapter 2!

Tony stared at himself for a long time in the mirror, tracing the sorcerer’s mark on his chest. He followed the circular pattern with the pad of his thumb, then brushed three fingers over the scarred center, tilting his head in interest. The skin felt warm today, not cold as it usually did. He opened his palm to look at the marks there. They were glowing white, and his fingertips hummed with magical energy. 

He wondered what had brought his magic so close to the surface. Stress? Or was it anticipation? He clenched his fist, willing the feeling away. Now wasn’t the time. Any moment he was due to arrive in the main hall to greet his guests. And he wasn’t even dressed.

“That’s because nothing suits,” he said to the empty air. The things he liked best, he’d already worn at the start of the season. The rest… Well, the rest were fine. But Tony wasn’t satisfied with fine. If he was going to be dragged out in front of half the kingdom - _ again _ \- he wanted to look stunning. 

Tony pulled a tunic out of the armoire and held it in front of him. He turned to the side, then to the front, observing himself in the mirror. No. Too formal. Too purple. He cast the garment aside, letting it fall to the floor at the top of a growing pile.

“Maybe nothing suits because I’m tired of parties.” Tony laughed out loud. Anthony Stark, king of the Western Throne, famous for extravagant fetes and a flagrant disregard for any kind of propriety, had grown tired of parties? What next?

It didn’t help that every ball for the last year had been a poorly-disguised courtship ritual. His advisors offered him up to suitors as if he were some sort of prize, praising his better qualities and glossing over his faults as if they didn’t exist. It was an exercise in futility. Marrying him off wouldn’t make him a better king any more than ignoring his flaws would make him a better man. Apparently it didn’t matter that his reputation preceded him. Suitors still traveled from the far reaches just for a chance to meet him. To woo him. Tony couldn’t blame them. None of them knew his heart was already spoken for. “Not that I’ve liked a single one of those potential suitors anyway,” he said ruefully.

“Talking to yourself again?” came a voice from the doorway.

Tony glanced up. “Guilty,” he said, flashing Rhodey an embarrassed smile.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Rhodey stepped inside and closed the door, depositing a package onto Tony’s bed. “Go on. You were saying something about suitors?”

“I was saying I don’t like them.” Tony reached for the package, fiddling with the twine that held it together. “What’s this?”

“Present from Pepper.” Rhodey took a seat in the armchair opposite the bed, kicking his legs out in front of him and crossing his arms. “I think she figured you’d be having some trouble with your wardrobe.”

“That woman is almost too insightful,” Tony said, wrinkling his nose. “Are you sure she isn’t a psychic?” 

“Pretty sure.”

Tony shrugged, untying the twine and tearing into the parchment. “Wow,” he said, pulling a tunic, a coat, and a cloak out of the package and setting them carefully on the bed. He took a moment just to drink them in, feeling the fabrics, admiring the way they caught the light. As always, Pepper had impeccable taste. He slipped the tunic on first; slim fitting with a reflective orange-gold fabric, it boasted a row of twenty buttons down the center of his chest. The high-collared coat was a perfect match of his house colors, vibrant red with gold trim. The cloak, which fell to knee length, was made of black velvet. He slipped it over his shoulders, running his palms over the soft, luxurious white fur gathered at the collar. He looked exactly as well-dressed as he’d hoped. Presentable enough for a party, at the very least. “They’re beautiful,” Tony said. “Thank her for me.”

“You should thank her yourself. It’s been too long since you’ve visited.”

Rhodey was right. Tony hadn’t left the castle in - how long had it been? Weeks? Months? He couldn’t keep track. He had too many responsibilities, too many people to answer to. Even if he believed he deserved a moment to himself, he didn’t know when he ought to take it. He swept a stray lock of hair out of his face, running his fingers over his beard. “I’ve been busy.”

“Hosting parties?”

Tony groaned. “Apparently.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “My advisors think it’s in my best interest to choose a husband. Something about stability, for me and for the kingdom.” 

Rhodey raised an eyebrow. “They’re not wrong.”

“I know that,” Tony said with a scowl. “It’s just… I just can’t. I’m not ready to marry someone I barely know.”

_ Liar. That’s not the reason. _

“But you are ready to get married.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. If it were…”

“The right person,” Rhodey finished for him. “Does the right person happen to be Bucky Barnes?”

Tony didn’t answer. He met Rhodey’s gaze in the mirror, then fell backward onto the bed, throwing one arm over his eyes and letting out an exasperated sigh. “Is there no precedent for a king marrying a member of his Royal Guard?”

“None that I know of,” Rhodey said unhelpfully. “But you are the king. You could just order him to marry you.”

“Now _ that’s _ romantic,” Tony deadpanned. “Ugh. Why did I let myself get talked into this? I don’t want to host another party. I don’t want to meet any more eligible princes. Hell, I didn’t even want to be king.”

“Not sure you can get out of that one.” Rhodey smiled sympathetically. “You could still cancel, you know. Send everyone home.”

Rhodey was right. Tony was the king. He could cancel. He could simply decide not to go. He sat up slowly, staring at the crown on his bedside table. 

_ What kind of king do you want to be? The kind that keeps his promises? Or the kind that runs away? _

“I couldn’t do that,” Tony said finally. Parties like this cost him and the kingdom entirely too much money, and his guests had traveled great distances to be here. To meet him. He couldn’t shirk his responsibilities. Not even if his heart was somewhere else.

“Besides.” He plucked the crown off the table and put it on, then stood, a cheeky smile spreading across his face. “I’m already dressed.”

~

Tony regretted not cancelling the party the instant he entered the main hall.

There were so many suitors. A dozen of them, at least. The vibrant costumes in bold house colors screamed _ pick me _as loudly as they could, and every head in the room turned to look at him as he descended the grand staircase. Tony could practically hear himself being reduced to “an advantageous alliance” or “a politically sensible match.” To these people, he was nothing more than an opportunity. A young king to be taken advantage of.

_ You used to like being taken advantage of. _

He pushed the thought aside, smiling his best public smile as he greeted the ambassador from the Northern Kingdom. A brief bow, a few pleasantries-

And then Tony spotted Bucky, standing nearly invisible against one of the stone pillars. Tony’s breath caught. A feeling of warmth spread outward from his chest, and when he glanced down, the marks on his palms were glowing. 

_ Come on, Stark. Control yourself. _ This wasn’t the place. He had an obligation to his guests. Besides, the party would be over in a few hours. He could ignore Bucky for a few hours. Right?

_ Right. _

With one last regretful glance in Bucky’s direction, Tony breathed deeply, tucked his hands behind his back, and turned away.

~


	2. The Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky does his job - keeping an eye on Tony while he attends the ball. Tony asks Bucky to dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Takkun for the wonderful art!

“Alright. Now that we all understand our strategy, I’ll give the security assignments. If I don’t call your name, you’ll be maintaining your usual posts.” Steve Rogers, Captain of the Royal Guard - and Bucky’s best friend - turned to face them, standing at attention. “Barton. I want you on the upper level. You see a problem, you don’t hesitate to shoot. Romanov, I want you on the main entrance. Keep track of who goes in and out. And finally, Barnes,” Steve said, looking at Bucky. It was still strange, hearing his last name coming out of Steve’s mouth. “You’re Stark’s tail. Where he goes, you go. Don’t take your eyes off him for a second. Understood?”

Bucky set his shoulders, sitting up straighter. “Understood.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Steve was the first to leave the strategy room, the rest of the Royal Guard filtering out behind him. Bucky stayed behind to gather his thoughts.

_ Should you keep lettin’ Steve assign you to Anthony? _ Probably not. His feelings for Anthony didn’t recommend him for any kind of protective post. But he was still the newest member of the Royal Guard. Asking for a new assignment would be too… impertinent. Besides, if Steve knew how Bucky felt, he might remove Bucky from the guard altogether.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Natasha had snuck up behind him, speaking quietly over his shoulder.

_ Perceptive as ever, _ Bucky thought. He turned just a fraction. “No. He doesn’t.”

“And you don’t plan to tell him.”

“It ain’t too much of a distraction,” Bucky said. “I can handle it.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

No. He wasn’t. Anthony had been a very real distraction since Bucky had taken up his post. And yet, somehow it felt as though being far away from Anthony might be worse than being close. “I’ll be fine, Tash,” he said, smiling a little to reassure her. “Let’s just get to work.”

Tonight’s ball was the fifth of its kind in as many weeks. Bucky had been assigned to watch Anthony for two - now three - of the five; according to Steve, he had a singular focus that made him the best man for the job. Trained assassin turned trained protector. The jobs were similar enough. They required the same discipline. But Bucky found he much preferred keeping someone alive.

The red coat and black cloak made Anthony look every inch a king; the sharp, perfect cut of Anthony’s beard brought Bucky’s attention straight to Anthony’s lips, full and red and turned up just slightly at the corners. His gaze flicked up as Anthony glanced toward him, and he met Anthony’s eyes for a fleeting moment. 

_ Beautiful, _ Bucky thought. _ Beautiful and entirely off-limits. Focus, Barnes. He’s your king. Nothing more. _

It took two hours for Anthony to make a circuit of the room, and another several minutes to quiet the crowd and announce that the dancing had begun. Every fete followed the same pattern. Greetings, dancing, drinking, and farewells. Bucky kept a reasonable distance, staying close to the walls and the sweeping stone pillars. He didn’t need to work not to be seen. The royal guards, like the servants, tended to escape notice. He watched as Anthony danced the first few songs with a line of well-dressed men wearing bright house colors, then ducked quickly away from the center of the room, his hands trembling, his smile slipping.

Bucky edged closer, careful to avoid drawing attention. “Are you alright?” he asked, pitching his voice low so that only Anthony could hear.

“Yeah.” Anthony rolled his shoulders once, then adjusted his collar. “Yes. I’m fine.”

Bucky wasn’t quite convinced, but at least Anthony’s hands had stopped shaking. “Good.” They stood quietly listening to the music, watching gentlemen and gentle-women making circles on the dance floor, until Anthony spoke again.

“So,” Anthony said, breaking the silence. “Getting tired of following me around yet?”

“Never.”

“I admire your patience. I have to admit, I’m beginning to lose mine.” 

“I wish I could help,” Bucky said.

Anthony’s lips parted, then curved into a half-smile. “Maybe you can.” He held out a hand, his palm open. “Dance with me.”

Bucky blinked. He wasn’t a suitor. Wasn’t a prince. He stared, eyes fixed on the sorcerer’s mark in Anthony’s palm, wondering whether it was wiser to say yes or no. “Is that an order?” he asked.

A small, uncertain frown. “Does it have to be?”

Bucky wanted to reach out and smooth the crease between Anthony’s brows. Instead, he took Anthony’s outstretched hand. It was no threat to Anthony’s safety. He could agree to a dance. Even if it meant less to Anthony than it did to him.

It had the desired effect. The remaining tension in Anthony’s face disappeared, and they came together, Bucky’s arm around Anthony’s waist. The music changed to a slow waltz, and the two fell into step, Bucky leading, Anthony following. It felt easy. Right. Bucky lost himself for a moment, his focus narrowed to their dance, the rest of the room fading away. 

They were too close. The deep, musky scent of Anthony’s cologne, the soft whisper of Anthony’s hair against his chin, the warmth of Anthony’s palm clasped in his - it was enough to push him past distraction. “Anthony.” Gently, decisively, he released Anthony’s hand and stepped away. “I can’t.”

Disappointment flashed in Anthony’s eyes. “Why not?”

“You’re my king,” Bucky reminded him gently. “It’s my oath-sworn duty to protect you.”

“You can’t protect me while we’re dancing?”

“I… It’s… distracting.” Then, because he worried Anthony might guess the real reason for his distraction, “Too much movement. Can’t keep track of everyone like that.”

“I thought you were only supposed to keep track of me,” Anthony joked.

Bucky let out a huff of laughter. “Easier to do that when I’m standin’ still.”

“Ah. Alright.” Anthony raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question Bucky further. “As you were, then.”

“Your highness.” Bucky inclined his head, a formal gesture of respect, then returned to his post, his palm still tingling from the memory of Anthony’s hand in his.

~

The rest of the evening passed without incident. Anthony danced with each suitor only once, and when the final guests had finally gone, it was a few minutes shy of midnight. Bucky’s job was not yet done; it was his duty not only to keep Anthony safe during the ball, but to see Anthony safely back to his chambers at the end of the evening. He followed Anthony up the stairs, keeping just a few paces between them. No point in trying to conceal his presence. Anthony had to be used to it by now.

“So,” Anthony said, looking at Bucky over his shoulder. “You’re my chaperone again, huh?” 

“I s’pose so.” Bucky frowned in apology. “I’m sorry. They’re not my rules.”

“I know.” Anthony slowed down, looking thoughtful. “My mother always insisted that the guards keep their distance,” he said, drawing even with Bucky as they walked at an easy pace down the corridor. “Something about maintaining my semblance of a normal life for as long as possible. When my parents died, things changed, but I guess I’m still not quite used to knowing I’m being followed around.”

That was understandable. It was unsettling, always being watched. Bucky had never enjoyed the feeling. 

“Although,” Anthony said, sounding almost - flirtatious? “If you’re the one doing the following, I might just be able to stand it.” 

Bucky blinked, his neck feeling suddenly warm. He didn’t get a chance to respond before they arrived at Anthony’s chambers. “Goodnight, then,” Anthony said, leaving Bucky with a lingering smile and closing the door softly behind him.

“Goodnight,” Bucky replied, watching the door for a few seconds more before retreating back down the corridor.

~


	3. The Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Anthony leaves the castle, he and the Royal Guard are caught in an ambush. Bucky leads them to shelter in the Witch's wood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: There is a little blood in this chapter when Bucky gets injured. Nothing graphic, but wanted to provide a warning.

A week after the ball, and Bucky still hadn’t gotten Anthony’s smile out of his head. In fact, since then, he’d sought it out more and more, searching for it at every opportunity. He decided he liked Anthony’s secret smiles best, the ones Anthony thought no one saw. Those were reserved for passages in books and visits from good friends, like James Rhodes.

This morning, Anthony’s smile was notably absent. His lead advisor, Obadiah Stane, had insisted he make a trip down to the Southern Kingdom to discuss trade and the future of their alliance. Bucky didn’t like the way Anthony’s advisors pressured him into so much. Being a king was responsibility enough.

_Perhaps you’d feel differently if you didn’t have feelings for him._

Somehow, Bucky doubted that. Anthony had inherited so much responsibility. What he deserved, more than anything, was a break. Not that he’d ever allow himself to take one. Bucky admired his ethic, but worried that someday, Anthony might bend, then break under the weight of such heavy expectations.

Their travel to the Southern Kingdom would take two weeks. Steve, Bucky, Clint, and Natasha had been chosen to accompany Anthony on the journey. Bucky wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or apprehensive about so much time alone with his king. Was being far away still worse than being close? Bucky’s heart said yes. The rest of him reserved judgment.

They reached the edges of the castle grounds without incident, and had made it several miles down the road when Bucky’s horse perked up its ears. “Easy,” Bucky said softly, patting the horse’s neck. “What is it?”

Bucky heard the attack before he saw it. Dry leaves crackled behind them, and he turned just in time to see the flash of a dark brown cloak before his horse reared back, knocking him to the ground. He landed on the dirt with a thud, his elbows digging painfully into the earth.

“Get down!” Steve shouted. But it was too late. There were at least ten men - mercenaries, Bucky realized, with no house colors - and more further afield, beginning to loose arrows.

Bucky’s gaze went straight to Anthony, who was somehow still seated on his horse. The beast snorted and stamped, rising briefly onto its hind legs, and Bucky stood quickly to grab hold of its bridle, trying to keep it steady, to keep Anthony from falling. Perhaps he might be able to escape, if only-

A sharp stab of pain. Bucky lost his grip and dropped to his knees, clutching his shoulder. _ Damn it. _ Blood ran between his fingers, and he wiped it quickly on the front of his tunic before reaching back with both hands and snapping the arrow in half.

“Bucky!”

He looked up to see Anthony crouched down in front of him, eyes full of concern.

“Your highness,” he said, about to ask Anthony what on earth he was thinking when more arrows landed around them. “We need to move.”

“What about the others?”

Bucky had one duty: to keep Anthony safe. As much as he cared about Steve and Clint and Natasha, the best thing to do was to leave them behind. “Doesn’t matter. Gotta get you out of here. C’mon. Down the path.”

They flew down the road at a full run, Bucky’s shield flung up to block the arrows as they went. It must have been almost a mile, because Bucky’s legs ached and his lungs burned as they sprinted toward the fork in the path, parallel to the trees. Bucky looked back to see the mercenaries behind them, barely a hundred yards away. Soon they would be caught. Not enough cover. No horses. 

Nowhere to hide except the forest.

Bucky had heard the stories. This was the Witch’s wood. Men went in and didn’t come out. _ Doesn’t matter. It’s our only option. _“This way,” Bucky said finally. He held out his hand, and Anthony stared at it, frozen. “Come on. We need to go.”

Anthony shook his head mutely.

“Your highness.” No response. Bucky tried again, more gently. “Anthony. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” He stepped close enough to take Anthony’s hand, then tugged, urging him forward. “Let’s go.”

~

A few stray arrows followed them as they clambered through the brush and into the cover of the trees. Bucky went first, clearing a path for Anthony as best he could. They moved quickly, slowing their pace only when Bucky was sure that the mercenaries didn’t plan to follow them. Good. Fear of the forest had saved their lives, at least for the moment.

Bucky stopped, turning to check Anthony for injuries. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Anthony nodded. “Yes,” he said, still appearing a little out of breath. “Who were those men?”

“Mercenaries.”

“Obadiah must’ve sent them,” Anthony murmured darkly. 

Bucky’s mouth opened, then closed. Anthony was right. Stane had insisted that they make the journey. He must have planned this. Planned to have his king killed. Anger, hot and wild, boiled in Bucky’s veins, and he forced it back, taking in a breath and releasing it as slowly as he could. “They could still be searching for us,” Bucky said. “The deeper into the woods we go, the better.”

Anthony didn’t argue. Bucky guided them further into the trees, ignoring the painful throb of his shoulder as they moved. The light from overhead began to disappear, the sun blocked by the dense cover of leaves until only small flecks of sunshine remained, creating a pattern on the forest floor. Bucky tried to lead them due north, back toward the castle - but he had already begun to lose all sense of direction. Another hour, then two, then three, the only noises their tentative footsteps, and Bucky stopped them, pausing underneath a tree whose trunk was larger than the span of his arms.

“We can stop here,” Bucky said. “No use in gettin’ ourselves more lost.”

“I can make a fire,” Anthony offered.

“We shouldn’t burn anything. Don’t want to signal where we are.”

Anthony looked thoughtful, then knelt down and opened his hands, the marks on them beginning to glow. “Alright. No smoke, then.”

Bucky watched in fascination as Anthony moved branches and leaves without touching them, nudging the bits of brush forward with just a wave of his fingers. He gathered them together in a pile, then opened his hand wider, a thin mist emerging from the center of his palm and winding itself around the leaves. A spark, and then a fire - but this fire didn’t burn, at least, not like anything Bucky had ever seen. It crackled, and Bucky felt its warmth, but there was no smoke. Bucky sat down slowly. He’d always known Anthony was a sorcerer, but he’d never seen Anthony use magic. It was strange. Incredible.

“Fire without flame.” Anthony sat back, looking proud of himself. “One of my favorites.”

Bucky leaned forward, rubbing his hands together over the heat. “It’s a good trick.”

“It’s a _ great _ trick.” Anthony crossed his legs, then his arms, as if the warmth from the fire wasn’t enough to keep him warm. “I never should’ve agreed to leave.”

“It ain’t your fault.” 

“It’s my castle. My kingdom. I should’ve been there to defend it.” 

Bucky stayed silent. There was nothing he could say to take away Anthony’s disappointment, though he wished he could. Stane had tricked them all. He’d been a trusted advisor for years, long before Howard’s death. None of them had had any reason to suspect. Bucky drew his hands back toward him, wincing as his arm twinged painfully. 

“You’re still hurt,” Anthony said softly.

“It’s alright.”

“Doesn’t look alright.” Anthony crawled closer, kneeling in front of Bucky, then placed one palm just underneath the arrow wound. “Right. This is going to feel weird, but I’ll try to make it quick.” 

The same mist from before curled around Bucky’s arm, shining brighter this time. Bucky closed his eyes. First there was warmth, then fullness, then numbness. Slowly, feeling began to return, starting in his fingers and moving up into his shoulder. He opened his eyes. The pain was gone. He glanced at the wound. There was no arrow left. No blood. The skin was unbroken. He looked into Anthony’s eyes, suddenly struck by their closeness. “Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome.” Anthony sat down beside him, still close, and Bucky was thankful that he hadn’t moved any further away.

“Do you think Obadiah will try to take the throne?” Anthony asked, the tone of his voice telling Bucky that he already knew the answer.

“Yes. Not sure the other advisors will believe him when he tells them what happened.” Suddenly, Bucky had a terrible thought. “But he might be able to make them.”

Anthony frowned. “How?”

“He… he might try to become a sorcerer himself.”

“Is that possible?” Anthony asked, his eyes wide.

Bucky frowned. “There’s a way,” he said darkly. “But it’s… Painful. Terrible. You take the magic by force. Rip yourself apart and bind it into the cracks. Real sorcerers like you, you have the natural marks. Made sorcerers like him - they don’t look human anymore. There are scars all over, scars that never heal, and the light from the magic shines through, except it’s not pure like yours. It’s dark. Purple and black, like poison.”

“Where does the magic come from?”

“That’s the worst part. You have to steal it from other sorcerers. Usually more than one, if you want to be powerful.”

“If you have your magic stolen from you, do you die?”

“Sometimes. Depends.” Bucky shook his head. “It’s evil. And if Stane has done it, he’s going to be hard to stop.”

Anthony pursed his lips, thoughtful and apprehensive, as if he didn’t want to believe it. “How do you know all this?”

“Anthony… Ain’t a lot about my past that’s good. I’ve witnessed terrible things. Done terrible things. I… I fought for someone once who had stolen magic. Killed for them. Followed them because of their power. Only learned after they died what they had done to get it.” Bucky stared into the fire, watching the colors change from orange to red. They sat in silence, the only sound the leaves shifting around them.

“Did I ever tell you how I became a sorcerer?” Anthony asked.

Bucky looked up. “I’ve heard stories. Not sure if there's any truth to ’em.”

“I was kidnapped. Trapped in a cave. Tortured. The Eastern Clans thought they could use me as leverage. Get my father to pay a ransom.” Anthony’s expression darkened. “I got my powers and destroyed them all.”

“That must have been terrible.”

“It was.” Anthony shrugged. “But I survived. And now I have this.” He held out his palm. The sorcerer’s mark glowed, that thin, white mist curling itself around his fingers. “Power. Enough to protect myself and the people I love. That’s all that matters.”

Bucky understood that more than Anthony probably knew. Being able to keep Anthony safe - it was the thing Bucky cared about most. “We should get some rest,” Bucky said. “I can take first watch.”

“You don’t need to. I know a protection spell. Enough to keep us hidden for the night.” Anthony’s hands glowed again, and as he murmured quietly to himself, a shimmering veil filtered down around them. “There. This way you can rest, too.”

They curled up back to back on the forest floor, close to the flameless fire. Bucky listened to the sound of Anthony’s breathing, feeling the rise and fall of Anthony’s chest against him, trusting Anthony’s enchantment to keep them safe as he finally drifted off to sleep.

~

Bucky woke first, blinking slowly awake. He could still feel Anthony behind him, warm and solid, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The enchantment had worked. They’d lived through the night, with no attacks from the mercenaries or any forest creatures. Bucky sat up, running a hand through his hair to draw it away from his face.

“You called me Anthony,” Anthony mumbled.

“What?”

“Last night. You called me Anthony.” He rolled onto his back, looking up at Bucky with an unreadable expression. “You should call me Tony.”

“Tony,” Bucky said, testing the name in his mouth. “Alright. Tony.”

They rose and resumed walking, happening upon a creek with water clean enough to drink. “It seems the rumors about dark magic in this wood might not be true,” Bucky said, splashing water on his face. They hadn’t encountered any enchanted beings or witches or evil sorcerers.

“If there is any dark magic, I haven’t felt it yet,” Tony replied. He had dunked his hair into the creek, and water dripped down his face, rivulets that clung to the corners of his smile. “I wonder.” Tony looked down at his palm, then stared up at the sky, familiar mist wrapping itself around his fingers. The air around them seemed to warm, and then small orbs of light began to appear, one after the other, moving further into the forest. 

“What-”

“Guidance charm,” Tony said. “Dark magic suppresses complex spells like this - but if there’s no dark magic…” He grinned, triumphant. “I can get us back to the castle.”

~

The path back to the castle was long. They spent several hours following the lights, watching new ones appear just when they thought they’d reached the end. Finally, they neared the edge of the forest, high stone walls visible between the trees. They would need to be careful. Bucky planned their route in his mind, imagining them skirting around the perimeter toward the hidden entrance inside the stables. It was the safest way into the castle, a closely guarded secret that even Tony didn’t know about.

“Wait.” Tony pressed a hand to Bucky’s chest, stopping him from moving any further. “Before we go back there, I need - _ we _ need to talk.”

Bucky waited, struck by the serious look on Tony’s face.

“I’ve - I’ve cared for you for a long time. What I need to know is, do you care for me too?”

Bucky hadn’t expected that. He wasn’t sure he was prepared to be so honest - and yet when he spoke, the truth came out, the words tumbling too easily from his lips. “Yes,” he said. “I care for you. I’ve cared for you since the day we met.” He squeezed Tony’s hand where it rested on his chest. “But Tony… you ought to marry a prince. Someone young and beautiful.”

“No,” Tony said, shaking his head. “I want you.”

Bucky bit his lip. “Tony.” He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t deserve Tony. He was low born. A reformed criminal given a second chance. “I can’t let you choose me.”

_ “Yes, _ you can,” Tony insisted, drawing Bucky down and sealing their lips together in a kiss.

Bucky fell easily into Tony’s embrace, electrified by the soft, warm movement of Tony’s mouth against his, lips coming together and parting and coming together again. He crowded as close to Tony as he could, opening his mouth to Tony’s probing tongue. One of Tony’s hands slid behind Bucky’s head to grip the hair at the base of his neck, the other hand cupping Bucky’s jaw. A crackle of magical energy made Bucky tremble, his body alight with sensation. His own hands found Tony’s waist and held on, his senses overwhelmed, his lips tingling.

Suddenly Tony’s palms illuminated the darkness of the forest around them, glowing hot enough to burn. Bucky pulled away, his fingers curling into the fabric of Tony’s tunic before releasing it and stepping back.

“Sorry,” Tony said. “It’s just - I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.”

Bucky’s heart fluttered in his chest. He smiled, brushing his nose briefly over Tony’s cheek.

“Okay,” Tony said, his hand finding Bucky’s and threading their fingers together. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way. Will you help me get my throne back?”

~


	4. The Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony confronts Obadiah.

The passage hadn’t been used in years. Hidden in the back of the stables, it had been designed for quick escapes during periods of civil unrest, or at least, that was how Bucky had described it.

“Through here,” Bucky said, clearing away enough hay to reveal a trapdoor.

“This leads into the castle?” Tony asked, crouching down to get a better look.

“Straight up into the tactics room.” Bucky pulled the trapdoor open, gesturing for Tony to go first. “There’ll be a fair bit of climbing,” he warned. “And it’ll be dark.”

“That’s alright.” Tony closed his eyes, urging his magic forward. His palms glowed, and then a white light surrounded him, extending about a foot in each direction. “I can lead the way.” He crawled as close to the trapdoor as he could, then dropped down, hitting the hard ground with a thunk. Bucky was right. It was dark.

_ Good thing I’m a sorcerer, _ he thought. 

Bucky dropped down into the passage after him, tugging the trapdoor closed. They moved slowly and carefully; Tony’s light created strange shadows against the dark walls, but it kept them headed in the right direction. The passage was damp and cold, the ground unforgiving against Tony’s tired feet, but they pressed on, climbing a ladder and a flight of stairs, listening to their own footfalls echoing in the eerie black. 

When they reached the door to the tactics room, Bucky switched places with Tony, his dagger clutched in his hand. “I’ll go first.”

“Wait,” Tony whispered. “What’s our plan? For Obadiah, I mean.”

“We’ll go through the servant’s corridor,” Bucky said after a moment of thought. “You distract him, I’ll come from behind and disarm him. If something goes wrong-”

“I’ll use my magic,” Tony finished for him.

Bucky gave him a look. “This goes south, you put yourself before me. You understand? If it comes down to it, you get yourself out.”

“It won’t come down to it.” Tony did his best to sound self-assured, then gave Bucky a kiss for good measure, lingering too long before pulling away. “Now come on. Let’s go.”

~

Tony and Bucky made their way quietly down the servant’s corridor, ducking quickly into a closet to hide from a few of the servants before jogging the rest of the way to the main hall. With a brief look, Bucky disappeared through a side door, leaving Tony, for the moment, entirely alone. 

_ Alright, Stark. Time to end this once and for all. _

Tony remained hidden from sight, peering around the corner. What he saw made his throat constrict, his whole body going rigid. So. Stane had become a sorcerer. It was unnatural. Chilling. Stane looked like he always had, and yet there was something…  _ wrong. _ His skin was covered with scars; he looked like marble, veins of purple and black running through his pale skin, glowing with dark magic. Tony steeled himself. He could do this. He’d been a sorcerer far longer than Stane had. He had control of his magic. And he had Bucky behind him.

_ You can do this. _

“Obadiah,” Tony said, stepping into view. “Surprised to see me?”

“Tony!” Stane laughed, a dark, terrifying laugh that made Tony tremble, every ounce of his magic urging him to turn around and run in the opposite direction. “I wondered if you were still alive. Not that it matters. Now I’ll have the pleasure of getting rid of you myself.”

“Whose magic did you steal?” Tony demanded, his jaw tight, his muscles tense with effort. “The elders?”

Energy crackled in Stane’s palms, and the scar down the center of his face flickered with dark light. “They were weak.”

“You  _ killed _ them.”

“I did.” Stane smiled, his tongue darting briefly to one side of his mouth. “So what now, Tony? Are you going to kill me?”

“He doesn’t have to,” said Bucky, emerging from his hiding place and holding a knife to Stane’s throat. “Take the crown off. Now.”

Stane turned his head, meeting Tony’s eyes. “Was this your plan, Tony? Send your guards in after me?” Stane’s palms glowed, black smoke swirling around his arms.

“Bucky, look out!”

Too late. Stane’s magic erupted in shards of black and purple, a blinding blast that sent Bucky flying. His back hit one of the large stone pillars, and he dropped to the ground, unconscious.

“Bucky!” Tony tried to run toward Bucky, but Stane stopped him, a wall of magic forcing Tony backward. “Obadiah. Stop this. Now.”

“Or what?” The dark light in Stane’s palms intensified, a strange sound thundering in Tony’s ears as the smoke swirled, growing thicker and darker. “You can’t beat me, Tony.”

_ Yes I can. _

In one sharp motion, Tony lifted his palms toward Stane and released every bit of magic he had, all his power all at once. White light exploded from his hands, engulfing Stane, choking out the black smoke and making the earth shake. The color behind Stane’s scars grew brighter, and suddenly he was splitting in two. Blinding light obscured half of his face, and a terrible, high-pitched sound pierced the air. Tony crouched down, covering his ears as the pillars began to shake. Stane disappeared behind a cloud of light and smoke. Tony’s eyes watered. He could barely see, could barely breathe.

_ Bang! _

An explosion. The roof began to crumble, debris raining down as the ground shook. The windows cracked and shattered. Tony scrambled to cover Bucky and block the blast. A sphere of bright white emerged from Tony’s hands, shielding them from the falling stone. It was unsustainable; he had no magic left. He strained to keep the orb around them, his hands trembling with the force of the spell.  _ Come on, Stark. You can do this. Hold on just a little longer. _ He shook his head. Colors were fading quickly into grey.  _ No, no, no. Stay awake, stay awake!  _ Tony gasped, pain piercing through the center of his chest. Tony’s vision narrowed to a pinpoint, and then there was nothing but darkness.

~

“Tony.” 

Tony frowned, the sound of his name not quite rousing him from sleep.

“Tony,” the voice said again, closer this time. Something soft and warm brushed over his cheek. Tony blinked, then opened his eyes, Bucky’s face filtering slowly into view. The rest of the room was still foggy, but he could tell they were in the infirmary. Good. The fighting was over, then.

“Bucky,” Tony said with effort. His mouth was dry, his lips cracking as he smiled. “Water?”

“Yeah, of course, sweetheart.” Bucky held a goblet to his mouth, and Tony sipped, wetting his lips and soothing his sore throat.

“Um,” he said, trying to gather his memories into some kind of sensible order. The explosion. Had Obadiah survived? “What… what happened?” he managed finally.

“You stripped Stane’s magic. Pulled it out of him.”

“Is he dead?”

“No. He’s in the dungeon. He’s different, though. Losing the magic… it aged him. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“The castle?”

Bucky winced. “Part of the roof collapsed, and one of the pillars is damaged. Nothin’ that can’t be repaired.”

“Alright.” Tony closed his eyes, then opened them again, realizing that Bucky was holding his hand. “Bucky?” Tony asked softly. “When we kissed in the forest. Is that… Do you still want-”

“Yes,” Bucky said firmly, his free hand sweeping carefully through Tony’s hair. “I do if you do.”

Tony smiled, his tired eyes sliding closed again. “Good. Just checking.”

~

Tony was allowed to return to his chambers the following day. Bucky went with him, not sure if it was habit or his desperate desire to stay as close as possible. He stood in the doorway as Tony slipped on a red robe, them turned to look at him. 

“I seem to remember you saying that I deserve a prince,” Tony said. “What if I made you one?”

Bucky’s lips parted, blinking in surprise. “Tony. You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to. I  _ want _ to.” Tony pressed a kiss to Bucky’s lips, and Bucky leaned in, hovering close as Tony pulled away. “Then maybe you can court me instead of just following me around everywhere.”

Bucky grinned. “Why couldn’t I do both?”

Tony laughed, his thumb brushing gently across Bucky’s lips before he kissed Bucky again. “I suppose you could.”

~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Stop by on [tumblr](https://sopherfly.tumblr.com/) to say hi and check in on what I'm working on next!


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